Realising that the date coincided with the plans for one of our family breakfasts, everybody was informed by email and post (hopefully in sufficient time!).  The responses received were favourable and we hoped to field at least 4 bikes on the day and 5 people.  Regrettably, due to changing commitments, this became 3 bikes and 4 people.

On the day, Richard and Gaynor, Bill, and Clive duly set off from the RVP, Dawnie having at least managed to come and chat before waiving us off.  The ride up to the Half Moon was uneventful apart from two aspects, Richardís near dry fuel tank, which literally ran dry as they pulled into a petrol station - Richard takes up the story, ìUnusually, at 80 miles on my trip meter, I found my self switching to reserve; 2 up, I suppose this had to be expected with the small tank on my Virago.  Over the next few miles, I started thinking about this.  Iíd done roughly 70% of my normal full fuel tank range, so applying the same calculation to my reserve tank, I should run out after about 8 miles, rather than the predicted 13-14 miles solo.  I glanced down at my trip meter to find out that in those ensuing 6 minutes travel weíd ridden another 7 miles!  Desperate measures were called for and a looming exit appeared a much better option than running out of fuel on the A1!  Pulling up into a large village we stopped to check where the nearest petrol station would be.  According to my map we should be at a village to the east of the A1.  Yet according to Billís we were west.  Logic confirmed Billís map as correct (ie travelling northbound pull off to the left, you must be west.)  At times like this, a quick glance at the position of the sun would have been useful, but it was obscured - not by circling vultures (thankfully), but by some pretty thick cloud.  We limped into a petrol station just in time.  Clive even heard my engine splutter!î

Suitably replenished, the rest of the journey was uneventful, but an impromptu gathering of Blue Knights at a toll bridge further along added to the experiences of the ride.

Arriving at the Half Moon, exactly at the time planned (good planning or miracle, we were undecided), we were met by the glorious sight of 3 HRD Vincents sitting in the driveway.  These had been ridden down by the boys from Eng V.  In immaculate condition, each at least 45 years old, they were truly astounding.

Moreover, outside the the Half Moon was a veritable parade of gleaming modern motorcycles.  Cruisers, tourers, race bikes, in fact every major manufacturer was represented:  Honda, Yam, Kawi, Triumph, Harley D, Suzi and of course, BMW.

After many old friends were met, and new ones too, we all ravenously indulged in the ìchip buttiesî supplied by the Landlord, before rushing off to order Sunday Lunch!

Returning some hours later, this time via Lincoln and the A15, we were treated to the spectacle of the airshow at RAF Waddington; it was ironic to think that the Lancaster bomber that taxied past us, was built not long before those Vincents.

And no, Richard didnít run out of fuel on the way back - was this something to do with riding solo?  Our secret source suggest that the height of a pillion seriously affects fuel economy on Viragos.  Clive also knows that the pillion seat on a Virago is not as comfortable as on a BMW!